Into The Abyss: A Journey To Remember In Central Laos (Part 5)

This is part five of the series. If you haven’t been following along with the story you can catch up here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Per Chan’s instructions Bea and I woke early the next morning and hopped on the once again overpriced tuk-tuk that would take us back to the bus station. Apparently the horror show that was Thakhek was a unionized one because these guys weren’t budging on their pricing. This morning though the nuances of Central Laotian finance didn’t seem to bother us and we set off with only our day packs to the bus station where our 7:00 am bus was to take us directly to the Kong Lor village; to the entranceway to the abyss.

The plan was simple enough Chan had assured us the night before. A three and a half hour bus directly to Kong Lor Village where we could walk to the mouth of the cave and hire a boat to take us into the darkness for just shy of two hours. If we were lucky enough to escape the ten-inch spiders in the cave we would jump on the next bus going east and at the first stop the next bus going south. We’d be back in Thakhek around sundown in time to go choose from the next wave of travelers who had been neatly butchered and placed in the meat cooler in anticipation of our final spicy Amityville dinner. At this stage of our trip Bea and I were well versed in multi-step travel ambiguities so we agreed that it was indeed straightforward enough and left our overnight bags with Chan in Thakhek.

The bus surprisingly took off on time and as we re-entered the countryside the anticipation began to slowly ascend from its weeklong simmer to a boil. Almost impossibly the ride was more beautiful than the last time as we drove deeper and deeper into the heart of Laos.

Always green in Laos!

As the land outside began to rise and fall at a more rapid pace our driver’s excitement appeared to pick up as well. A hard corner left would send the full brunt of my hundred and forty-five pound frame onto Bea’s left shoulder. The favor would be immediately returned at the next right as the driver spun the wheel with an early morning fire in his eyes. “What was this maniac doing?” I thought as I started to feel sick. I glanced at Bea as her weight shifted off of me in preparation for the next left turn. The look she shot me back was like looking in the mirror. Our stomachs were both in the next seat, or on the floor, or back in Thakhek. We didn’t know but they sure weren’t where they were supposed to be at this hour of the morning.

I began to sweat a bit. “What the hell is this guy doing?” I asked Bea. “I NEVER get sick in a bus and I feel like I’m about to vomit.” Before she could respond the bus driver had apparently gotten his fill of the NASCAR lifestyle and began to slow down, apparently pulling over to let someone off.

“Maybe he knew we were screaming mercy,” Bea said.

“Somehow I don’t think so” I responded motioning my head towards the back of the bus.

She looked back to see a giant plume of black smoke spewing out of the rear of the bus filling the beautiful countryside with the driver’s now fading checker-flagged ambitions. He hadn’t given up though, the bus had.

We looked at each other and shrugged. “Here we go again” I said as we got up and got off the bus immediately heading for the one patch of shade that we once again happened to come to a stop conveniently next to.

“How long do you think it’s going to be?” I asked.

“What day is it?” she whispered shaking her head as she plopped down onto the dusty shoulder.

Thankfully we avoided this: the usual Laos bus stop.

As it turned out our wait time thankfully wasn’t measured in sarcasm and after a few gallons of water were dumped into the radiator we were back in the bus and rolling again.

A few pleasant minutes down the road it was apparent that either our driver’s hubris had worn off or he was out of sugar cane to snort; either way we weren’t complaining and any conversation we had quickly faded into the scenery outside.

The bus slowly chugged on and I quickly got lost in my thoughts. Gone were the thoughts of snarling dogs, AK-47′s and one-sided knife fights. All was well as we were finally about to bring our Beerlao fueled Vientiane plans to fruition!

As my mind hit the fist pump that was the last exclamation point the rumble started again. It started and then stopped immediately. I looked over at Bea who had quickly averted her eyes from me like only someone caught staring would.

Before I had time to think about it though the rumble started again. This time it was apparent that something was wrong; something was different. I looked back expecting, hoping even, to see smoke billowing from the back of the bus. Nothing. My eyes moved forward again and in doing so caught the same guilty head jerk from Bea. “What the hell was going on?” I thought. Before I could ask aloud the bottom dropped out.

In an instant my stomach stepped off the ledge and threw its hands back like a skydiver or someone who had just given up on life. It’s hair whipped in the wind as it plummeted towards the sticky bus floor. Seconds before making impact it decided to show off and started on a series of somersaults. What the hell had gotten into it? There was no time to think. I darted for my bag trying my hardest not to mimic the buses plume of exhaust. “I’m in public” I thought. “Or at least Bea is here, this can’t happen.” The fear was real as I rummaged through the bag until I felt the sharp plastic edge of relief.

As I pulled the small package out of my bag a brief since of calm set over me. My stomach had pulled the chord on its parachute. The small saving grace wrapped in an impossible plastic casing had, at least for now, convinced my stomach that it was worth moving forward; it was worth trying to live another day.

Relieved I again turned to Bea in hopes she hadn’t noticed the calamity. She shot me a raw smile that screamed, “I’ve been there” as her head cocked to the side and her eyes motioned down to her hand. As she slowly released her grip revealing a shiny plastic square in her palm it became apparent that today’s dive had been a tandem. Imodium for two please.
The story continues soon! Check back next week to see what happens next.